


Dance | (Autumn 2014)

by Aleczandra



Series: a Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill story [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice RPF, DCEU RPF
Genre: Beta Wanted, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleczandra/pseuds/Aleczandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck have been doing a certain dance for weeks. Isn't Ben remotely curious?</p><p>A stand-alone fic that can also be considered part one of the "a Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill story" continuity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance | (Autumn 2014)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻】《Dance(Autumn 2014)》](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067758) by [Echopai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echopai/pseuds/Echopai)



> Disclaimer: "I've all the demons of Hell in my mind. My only salvation is to vent them on paper!" - Le Marquis de Sade, _Quills_
> 
> I'm welcoming any comments that could help me identify any vernacular that is too American or Canadian. As this is Henry's POV, I'd like to include a healthy amount of British vocabulary.
> 
> The beautiful Echopai was kind enough to find this work worthy of being read by Chinese fans of the Benry fandom. Link found above. Thank you, it's an honour!

Henry was beginning to see it — the toll that Ben’s separation was taking on him. But Ben was a professional, and from costume and makeup to when characters were shed, not a hint of that inner turmoil transpired. Henry only knew because it was something Ben had shared after a particularly exhausting day around a much needed cold drink. It was just a few words, yet the strain had been obvious. And how could anything else be expected: weeks of sleeping in the guest room, of trying to keep a front for the kids so they wouldn’t be affected, and knowing conversations needed to happen and decisions taken. At the time, Henry had simply squeezed his cast mate’s — no, his friend’s — shoulder and let the man finish the drink in silence, which Ben had seemed to appreciate. They hadn’t discussed it since, but Henry could see occasional hints of tension when Ben was by himself and thought no one was looking. This was why he had invited him for dinner as Henry’s family was visiting from England. After initial hesitation, as if he didn’t want to find himself among the company of those he didn’t know, Ben had agreed to be at 7pm at the flat Henry was renting during the filming of BvS.

Kal, the puppy Henry was still trying to raise, was the first to welcome Ben. The poor thing was so overexcited by the unusually large number of people in the house that Henry couldn’t bring himself to punish it. Even as it pushed its black face toward the newcomer and licked enthusiastically at Ben’s chin, Henry let him be. If it weren't enough, Thomas, dressed in his favourite Supes costume, ran across the room and joined in, hugging both dog and man. His ‘tackling’ was strong enough to make Ben lean, or rather fall, back against the closed door. Proudly, the boy claimed loudly, “I'm Superman and I’ll stop you, Batman!” He witnessed his sister in law turn red with embarrassment, then try to pry her son off the guest, but Ben simply laughed, and played along to the boy’s game.

From the kitchen of the open-concept first floor, Henry watched as Ben moved through the gathering of people once the child was taken by its mother. Seemingly at ease, Ben introduced himself to Henry’s family and eventually joined Henry and his mother in the kitchen where they were finishing the first course preparations. He could read the surprise on Ben’s face when instead of just accepting his handshake, his mother pulled Ben’s much larger and taller frame down for a hug. Henry could only offer him a grin in understanding: after bringing up five boys, Ms. Cavill was more than capable of handling tough, big boys. Marianne kissed his cheek, softly giggled as she wiped the trace of rouge her lips left on it, and excused herself, carrying the soup to the dining table. Behind him, Ben put in the fridge whatever non-alcoholic drink he had brought, and Henry could tell his senses were running in hyperdrive. It was as if he could force the skin of his back to feel the taller man move behind him. Yet, it totally surprised him when a bottle of red wine was set on the counter right next to him.

“For your guests. I’ve been told it would go well with roasted lamb chops.” Henry had to smile: Ben was such a considerate guest. He allowed his eyes to run over the bulky frame of Bruce Wayne as Ben moved around the counter to sit on the high chairs opposite him. “Saw the appetizers are almost out.”

Henry grinned interiorly, even if on the outside he stayed focused on the French baguette he was slicing. “If you wanted some, you should have shown up on time, not 45 minutes after the facts.”

He watched the left corner of Ben’s mouth curl up, but nothing else, and his attention turn to the group in the living and dining areas.

“So they’re staying a week? Must be nice, coming home to this.”

Henry smiled softly, understandingly: Jennifer and the kids had been coming and going, and while it was obvious he needed his kids’ presence, the uncertainty in Jennifer’s and his relationship made the visits bittersweet.

“Actually, they took rooms in a hotel. I told them to stay over, that we’ll make do with extra mattresses, but they didn’t want to be a bother if I ever came back tired and craving silence.”

“They’re considerate.”

“Only because Simon and Piers couldn’t make it. They wouldn’t have been. At all.”

He watched Ben’s shoulders give a small lift at that, the usual telltale sign of when Ben found something just funny enough to react a little, but not with a full blown laugh. Henry broke his own contemplative mood by thrusting the bread plate into Ben’s hands. “Make yourself useful and bring that to the table.”

“Yes, sir.” Ben’s imitation of an army salute just made Henry chuckle, and he allowed his eyes to linger on the span of those shoulders as the man left, before shaking himself out of his own silly infatuation. He donned the oven mitts to check on the roast, but his head stayed on the other actor.

His hero worship had been obvious from day one. He had even been disappointed when Zack hadn’t asked for any screen testing between Ben and himself to verify… what exactly? It wasn’t as if on-screen chemistry had been necessary for the Supes and Bats parts, or that they would have possibly passed over having two-time Oscar winner Ben Affleck in the movie if Henry hadn’t worked well with him. Zack was so in awe of Ben himself, that he would have probably dropped Henry if Ben hadn’t liked him! So, no screen testing needed. At least by the time the two met in pre-production, Henry had found a way to tune down the fanboy in him. But when he could, and when filming permitted, he still snuck on the Bats set to watch Ben be Ben.

“Are we doing well?” His mother asked, leaning in next to him to check on the meat.

“Yeah. We should start. Should be ready just in time for the main course. You can take the decanter, and I’ll bring the beer.” And Ben’s drink, he mentally added to himself, opening the refrigerator and seeing inside a 6-pack of Coca Cola cans. He reached for one, smiling to himself: Ben was being quite serious about his sobriety on this film.

He allowed his hand to linger on Ben’s shoulder just a little longer than necessary after handing the beers to his brothers and setting the can in front of him. When he moved to the opposite end of the table, he found the hazel eyes on him. They seemed to consider him, their look hooded, before Ben turned to look at his sister in law to answer her. Henry would have wondered at the meaning of that gaze if it hadn't been for his nephew pulling on his sleeve and asking for a buttered piece of bread.

The evening happened in a blur, Ben fitting in seamlessly. Henry caught him staring absentmindedly to the side a few times when the conversation wasn’t directly including him, but as he had learned, that was just a thing Ben did, and he could tell he was enjoying himself by the way he would sometimes just get caught in a subject and speak over the others as if he couldn’t stop himself unless he got his complete point across. It was well past midnight by the time Henry saw his family to the cars, little Thomas deep asleep in Charlie’s arms. Henry waited until the cars disappeared around the curb before he went back inside, finding Ben drying the dishes out of the dishwasher and placing them into the cabinets. In normal circumstances, or if it had been any other person, Henry would have asked them to stop, but teasing was always what came to mind around the older man.

“Damn, Affleck, you come over, you eat my food, _and_ you fix the mess after? My, you’re the perfect date!”

Ben looked at him as he picked a new plate out, and as he wiped the excess water, gave that small smile, eyes narrowing slightly and head cocking to the side, of whenever he only humoured Henry’s teasing as opposed to playing along. “Why don’t you help me instead of just standing there, admiring the goods.”

Henry smiled, and grabbing a kitchen cloth, obliged. They were half way through the lower rack when Ben spoke again.

“Thank you for tonight, Henry.”

He smiled, his back to Ben. “Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it. You’re a good guy.”

Henry scoffed. “That’s what people think, but maybe I am terribly calculating. Perhaps I planned to get you drunk and then take advantage of you.” He looked over his shoulder for emphasis, raising an eyebrow for effect, but instead of the usual grin of a man ready for joking, he found Ben frowning, shoulders tense.

“Henry…” A sigh, and a groan as he leaned back against the counter. He pinched his nose bridge, eyes remaining closed.

Henry laid the plate and cloth on the counter, his eyes glued to Ben. He approached him, and right as he did so, knew in his gut that if ever there was a moment, this was it. He put a hand on the counter beside Ben’s hips, pressed himself against the larger frame, and watched as all Ben did was open an inquisitive eye at him.

“What are you doing?” No animosity, not really surprise either, just a question to try to stop what was so inevitably coming.

“We’ve been doing this dance for weeks now. A long time. Too long. Aren’t you even remotely curious?”

Ben looked at him, hesitation shining in those brown eyes, and his hands covered Henry’s forearms, but as there was no real strength to the touch, Henry pushed in further. He was so close to the man now he only had to inhale for his musk to fill his nostrils, and it did something to him.

“I’ve only been half joking this whole time.” He moved his hands from the counter to Ben’s waist for emphasis, and though he felt no tension there, the hands on his arms still didn’t budge. That was when Ben studied him, or maybe he was just considering him, but his eyes stayed locked with his for a time, seconds really, before falling closed.

“Okay.”

It was all Ben said, and it was all Henry needed. He crossed what little space separated them, and kissed him. He watched Ben at first, but those lids remained stubbornly shut. That was when Henry threw caution to the wind: if he had to, he’d coax Ben into this. He parted his lips, taking Ben’s lower lip between his and suckled, his tongue just briefly touching it. He had moved to the upper lip when he finally felt it: Ben shift against him. He felt those strong hands slide to his back, warm palms preventing any escape – not that Henry would ever want to escape – and those lips part, the hot tongue pushing into his own mouth. It brushed, touched, and caressed with a maddeningly languid slowness, and he had to hold back not to moan.

Ben tasted of pop, goat roast, mashed potatoes, and that infuriating e-cigarette he always carried. And it was delicious. Henry’s tongue met Ben’s in a slow caress, thick muscle moving against each other with growing need.

He wanted to see Ben, to capture and commit to memory whatever expression he had at that moment, but instead of stealing a look, he found the other man already doing that to him. It should have made him recoil, blush maybe, to find himself so exposed, studied, but he couldn’t even, so enrapt he was with Ben’s expression. It was the Bruce Wayne’s stare – that powerful, charged gaze of a force rallied toward a single goal – but it was also deeply laced with lust, dilated pupils locking him in place and time. At that instant, the fanboy part of Henry just wished he could see the cold persona of Bruce Wayne, his face distorted with unbearable lust. Imagining it made him tremble to his fingertips and he pressed fully against Ben, hips finally coming into contact in what was the most painfully delicious sensation. It made him light headed. And if he went by the way Ben’s tongue lured his past his own lips, mouth locked onto it, and sucked at it, he’d say Ben enjoyed it too. Henry reached up then, locking fingers into the longish Bruce Wayne hair and pulling on the locks. He earned a grunt from the other man, which felt to Henry as if it vibrated into his mouth and down his body to every place they touched. It made his clothed skin burn, and his hips rub against Ben’s in a desperate attempt to feel and hear more of him. If it was still unclear moments ago what Henry wanted out of this, now it had to be obvious, what with how his cock was hardening against Ben. And Goodness did it feel good to know Ben was hard too. It felt good kissing him, but it felt thousand times better rubbing against him, and feel him grow hard too. Henry imagined Ben was large, but fuck did he feel even larger now.

Ben stopped the kiss then, pulling back to catch his breath. Not even bothering to hide his interest anymore, Henry watched how Ben was panting, strong chest heaving, lips glossed with saliva and reddening with the force of that kiss, and the faintest of flushes on those cheeks. He figured he must offer the same vision, or similar, as he was pretty aware of the heat on his face. He wiped off the drool at the corner of his lips, and was about to lean in for another kiss when Ben moved and ran fingers through his hair. “I give up. I never thought of going this far with you.”

Henry frowned, ‘This far’? If anything, this wasn’t nearly far enough.

He grabbed Ben by the wrist and pulled him along to the staircase. He saw the look of surprise, but didn’t stop to address it, or didn’t care; he used the moment of shock to bring him to his bedroom. After all, this had clearly less to do with convincing Ben than about tipping his resolve over, and he felt so close already.

“Henry…” A protest, but weak. He pulled him into the room. He didn’t bother with the lights – they would have probably given Ben cold feet – and there was enough street light filtering from the outside anyway. He sat on the bed and moved back toward its centre as he tugged on Ben’s wrist to join him.

“Relax, this is nothing else than two blokes relieving some tension.” There was a moment of hesitation as Ben just stayed put, resisting him. He couldn’t see them in the dimness, but he imagined the hazel eyes on him. For a moment, Henry didn’t know what would happen. Sitting there, wide eyes looking up at the other man, legs spread in front of him, his cock strained against the material of his briefs and jeans, Henry felt terribly vulnerable, and wondered to himself if he hadn't gotten it terribly wrong. And then Ben suddenly moved, that thick tongue peaking forward to moisten his lips, followed by his jaw pushing forward just the slightest and his bottom lip protruding to cover the top row of pearly whites. It was a thing Ben did, one of his most recognizable mannerisms. Usually, it only made Henry shiver just under the surface, but right now, it went in a direct path to his crotch and made him throb under all the layers of clothing. He thought it was bad, and then Ben crawled onto the bed, toward him, and the look in those brown eyes, as if once the decision was taken a beast was coming to him, made his throat constrict.

Once close enough, Ben slid his legs under Henry’s thighs and on either side of him, and pulled his waist closer, bringing him onto his lap. Their mouths met again, locked, and Henry instinctively ground down on him, hips desperately seeking the contact of that jeans-clad cock, and thank God Ben was still hard. He didn’t hold back this time – fuck they were in his bedroom, on his bed – and buried his hands in that thick head of hair as he sat slightly higher than Ben, tongue rolling against the flat of teeth and another tongue with no apology. He felt those large hands with the elegant fingers close on his buttocks, tips digging into taunt muscle, and heck if his hole wasn’t twitching with need. He’d have swallowed every single one of those long fingers right there if he could. It only made him grind with more commitment.

It wasn’t long before Ben’s hands moved along the hem of his pants to the button and fly, and the sound it made as it was pushed down electrified him. He let Ben push his pants past his arse, lifted just off Ben’s lap so that they sat across his upper thighs. He felt Ben push down the elastic band of his briefs until it was hooked under his balls. He could imagine the vision he offered, with his cock standing straight between them, hard as a rock and leaking already from just kissing Ben. Thank God Ben was still sucking at his neck because he wouldn’t have been able to take the weight of that gaze without flushing furiously.

When Ben finally touched him, spreading the beads of pre-ejaculate fluid over his head, Henry trembled in his arms, his breath ragged as he sighed with pleasure. With Ben now mouthing at his neck, he let his hands roam freely on Ben’s back through the sweater he was wearing in what he hoped was an encouraging touch. Perhaps it worked, for Ben’s fingers subsequently slid lower along his underside until they reached his balls. Before he knew it, Henry was grinding into one large and warm palm, shamelessly covering it in the fluid still oozing out of him. His fingers dig into fabric and muscle as he pressed his forehead on Ben’s shoulder, breath catching. Finally, Ben’s fingers moved to wrap around his length, snug and slickened hold tentatively sliding up then down, and Henry couldn't hold back the moan he had suppressed until then. More followed as he was wanked. 

“Fuck, never thought you’d moan like this.” Ben, speaking against whatever skin he had managed to uncover by pulling his collar aside. More moans spilled from his mouth as he thrust into the circle of Ben’s fingers, slowly, hips rolling. “Do something about it.” But he couldn’t. He was a moaner, occasionally too vocal for what was usually expected of English stoic. And hell if he cared; it felt even better letting it out. He revelled in the sensations a short while longer, knew he could have brought himself to completion, and really it was tempting, but he wanted to feel Ben as well. He captured Ben’s mouth again, and mouths and legs locked, he slid back down onto the mattress, pulling Ben on top of him. He reached between them to free Ben’s cock from his jeans, and bullocks if he wasn’t even larger than he had thought. He watched that crown disappear within the circle of his hand as he stroked him, was mesmerized by its weight and how it felt to hold it, and he could have continued to watch if it weren’t for the hiss Ben produced by his ear. He turned, and the sight of Ben, eyes tightly shut, eyebrows pulled into a frown, and his mouth open around ragged breaths was enough to make him release his hold and instead, wrap his hand around both their lengths. The way Ben’s breath caught at the contact made Henry’s hips buck up and rub against Ben’s. Henry’s eyes were glued to the set of twin beauty marks by Ben’s left eye, and when a trail of sweat covered them, his tongue sneaked out to lick it, earning a groan from the other man. With all the rubbing and thrusting as they sought more contact, their pants were falling lower on their hips. If Henry allowed himself, he’d grab that perfect arse and urge him against him.

“Fuck…” Ben’s voice was huskier than he’d ever heard it. It filled his senses and made him want to feel its vibrations all over his body. He threw his head back, and grabbing a fistful of hair, forced Ben’s head into his neck. He was rewarded with a grunt against his Adam’s apple as Ben ran his teeth against it. “You make me want to put it in.” Henry would have been shaken with tremors if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted it just as bad.

“Please do it.” He knew his voice was broken, but here again, he didn’t care.

Ben, however, seemed startled by his answer. “Really?”

Henry nodded, and that’s when he pushed Ben back and untangled from their position. He pulled his shirt over his head and twisted around to reach for lube and rubber. He handed the latter to Ben, then kicked his pants off completely. Resting back against pillows and headboard, he brought his knees closer to him and was about to squeeze lube onto his fingers when Ben stopped him. “Let me do it.”

It was excruciating, watching Ben undress and discard his clothes by the side of the bed before sitting back on his heels between Henry’s thighs. It was even harder to have that gaze lock with his as a finger entered him and tentatively pried around. By the time the second finger pushed in, scissoring to widen his entrance, Henry had an arm thrown over his face not so much to hide his features as to shy away from the intensity of those eyes: If sometimes Ben was lost in thoughts of his own, he was continually focused on Henry now. On the other hand, Henry was just happy Ben wasn’t stroking him simultaneously: that would have probably made him ejaculate prematurely.

It felt like a void when Ben pulled his fingers out. Behind his tightly shut lids, Henry heard the small package being ripped opened, and imagined its content rolled down over one terribly stiff and large manhood.

“You’re latex intolerant?” There seemed to be surprise in that voice as the man slid his arms under thick thighs and brought them up, rolling up his hips to the perfect angle.

“Yeah, too much exposure to the latex in the Supes suit in Man of Steel. Caused the wardrobe department a bit of a headache I’m afraid.” He wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck as he positioned himself.

“Somehow I can imagine you being a pain.” He was teasing, it was obvious, and Henry really couldn’t reply because that’s when Ben chose to enter him, large and thick length stretching him more than those fingers ever did. He had to hold tightly onto him, face buried in his neck, riding the pain, the sting. They stayed like that – Henry panting around the strain, and Ben’s concerned ‘Are you okay?’ whispered in his ear – as they got accustomed to the stretch. And just as suddenly as it hurt, it felt good again, moans pouring from Henry’s mouth as he wanted – needed – Ben to move. Ben took the hint, and lowering Henry’s legs onto the bed, he slid one arm under his waist, angling him correctly, and tentatively pulled out before equally infuriately slowly pushing back in.

“You’re taking me in completely.”

Henry had to groan: was that Ben teasing him? Because if it was some kind of awe, he needed him to start moving with a little more resolve. He felt lips at the corner of his mouth, and realized he was wrought tightly, biting back moans and eyes squeezed shot. He turned to kiss Ben, lips meeting momentarily before tongues sought each other again, and his arms relaxed to hold on to Ben’s back with one hand, the other moving past his waist to grab one firm cheek. “I need you to move, Ben. I can hardly take how much I–“ His sentence finished in a silent wail, his head throw back and mouth open but no air coming through as Ben finally moved.

If ever there were any doubt that Ben would be a good lover, there were none now. Henry could hardly control himself, and every one of his moans seemed to invigorate Ben. Even as he was turned around, hips pulled in the air but chest pressed down on the mattress by the heel of a hand between his shoulder blades, he couldn’t stop it when the words spilled out. His mind wasn’t there anymore when all the ‘oh Ben!’, ‘so deep’, ‘so big’, ‘so hot’, and ‘right there’ started pouring out of him. And when they were both so close – so FUCKING close – Ben pulled out again and flopped him onto his back, Henry squeezed Ben’s waist between his thighs, calves pressing on those cheeks to urge him deeper inside. Did Ben want to shut him up when he covered his mouth with his fingers or just tease some restraint? He couldn’t care to find out. Instead, he just let Ben take him, knees on either side of Henry’s hips as he thrust in so successfully it made the tears moisten his lashes.

Ben came first, and Henry was glad he did because he never thought he’d heard something as amazing as the grunt-like moans Ben made when he orgasmed. It was beautiful, back curling and hips rolling as he rode the multiple waves of the tide. It was enough to make Henry orgasm, semen splattering over both their chests, and yet he wished he could have felt Ben’s load fill him up, and eventually ooze out.

Henry held Ben’s head with both his hands as they laid there, gasping for air. When Ben finally opened his eyes to look at him, there was a light in the warm orbs that would make any man blush.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He whispered as he ran a thumb over the lashes then down along the cheekbone, simply looking at him. “Your eyes… They just suck me in every time.”

Henry felt his eyebrows knit, his gut constrict: he wasn’t expecting any more from this, but these were the kind of things Ben could say to him that would get him hooked. He opted for pushing Ben off, groaning at the loss of him inside but knowing he couldn’t take too long of this. “Get off, already. You’re damn heavy, you know?”

There was a small smile on Ben’s lips as he lazily sat back on his heels, and Henry watched him sweep his eyes over the night tables, probably in search of tissue. He took those handed to him once the box was found and wiped his chest as he watched Ben pull the condom off and wipe the semen from his cock. Henry wasn’t going to lie, he had to hold back not to push Ben back and lick that thick flesh clean, thereby tasting him, inhaling musk through hungry nostrils. He even had to hold back from thinking those thoughts, or he’d get hard again.

He propped himself up against the headboard to finish cleaning spunk and lube off. Unconsciously, he adverted his eyes from Ben: at this moment, he didn’t know whether the other man would just get up and leave (relieving stress was just a one-night thing anyway) or stay the night. He felt relief when Ben pulled the covers from under them and slid under. He surprised him further when instead of lying down on the pillows, he laid down at an angle, with his head on Henry’s stomach. It took Henry a moment to accept this, and as casually as he could manage, he slid an arm under Ben’s to rest across the taunt and sweaty chest, allowing his fingers the tiniest scratch at the light hairs. He couldn’t think of anything to say, until Ben broke the silence.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you? I mean, with men.”

Thank God his tone was just merely inquisitive. Then again, when was Ben not an open-minded gentleman? He didn’t think he’d ever heard him judge anyone. “Yeah.”

“So you’re–“

“Bi? Yeah. Pretty 50-50.”

A small sound of acknowledgement, nothing much.

“You?”

Henry could hear the frown in the rasp of his voice when Ben answered. “Probably 85-15? I haven’t met many men I’ve actually wanted to do anything with. I strike friendships with men, but not really sexual relationships.”

Henry slowly smiled. “I thought as much. There was a time when I was extremely hormonal and wondered about Matt and you, but in truth I never really got that vibe.”

Ben laughed then, and Henry could imagine that little smirk he got whenever he was truly smiling but not ecstatic. If Henry was honest, it looked just the right kind of dork.

“Yeah. Definitely no sex. I won’t deny the occasional jerking off in the same room during sleepovers, but nothing beyond.” Henry smiled. Matt had visited once during filming so far, and Henry had envied the connection between the two men.

Ben yawned then and stretched, that back rising off the bed in one delicious curve. He didn’t think Ben realized how seductive he was, his body covered in that shiny coat of drying sweat.

“Wanna go train together in the morning?”

“Sure.” He hoped the quivers in his voice weren’t too obvious. It’d be fine in the morning, but he was just a bit too aware of Ben tonight. “I’ll just have to walk Kal before.”

Ben got up slowly, switching to the pillows, settling in for the night. “Oh yeah... Where has he been?”

“Probably his cage. He still prefers it even though he’s trained enough not to be confined to it.”

“Nice.” Ben turned to face the wall, his voice thick with sleep. “See you in the morning.”

Henry laid on his back for a moment, stealing glances at the muscular back peaking from under the covers, Ben’s darker skin a contrast to the stark white of the sheets.

Yeah, it’d be better in the morning.

 

 

FIN


End file.
